It was, perhaps, less awkward this time around. They'd abandoned the pretense of separate bed chambers entirely. The Doctor let Eggs take over Clara's room. Clara wondered if she should warn Eggs about the games the TARDIS liked to play with her room, then decided to wait and see what happened. After all, the Doctor never seemed to believe her. Maybe a four foot hole in the wall would get his attention.
Clara now slept in the Doctor's bedroom. This should have been a momentous occasion, she supposed, but he'd moved her in there very matter-of-factly, then left her alone to do "womanly things." Her mouth twitched when she tried to imagine what the Doctor thought "womanly things" were. Her clothes now resided in a mismatched set of dressers in the Doctor's wardrobe, and her toiletries now occupied the cabinet in the Doctor's bedroom. It was a bit unsettling to see her Aveda bottles lined up next to alien concoctions. Naturally she'd opened all the bottles to sniff them. One particularly exotic, extra-terrestrial bottle in the shower smelled suspiciously like Old Spice. Clara considered it a victory he'd never found the space equivalent of Axe Body Spray.
The room itself had an old air of disuse about it. She knew the Doctor didn't need to sleep as often as she did, and she suspected he caught more cat naps in the console room than he let on. There was no dust, the TARDIS wouldn't tolerate dust, but the room had far less clutter than she would have suspected of a room the Doctor spent alot of time in. The bed was simple, wide and soft, with sheets so dark a blue they were nearly black, and a simple quilt that looked hand-pieced and very old. It made her feel very small.
All in all, they'd found a routine fairly quickly. The Doctor left her privacy in the mornings, generally off tinkering somewhere in the console room. Sometimes Clara cooked breakfast, and sometimes he dashed out to a cafe somewhere for take-away. Then they'd spend time exploring the TARDIS, Clara seeing rooms for the first time, and the Doctor re-discovering rooms he'd forgotten. Clara hadn't forgotten that horrible day she'd been lost in the bowels of the ship, and was determined to learn her way around. They went swimming in the pool, fed the giant pandas in the zoo, and knocked balls around the croquet court, and just generally enjoyed each other's company. When Clara tired, as she easily did, they often found themselves in the library. Clara loved the library. Sometimes she fell asleep there, and would wake hours later in her bed. His bed. Whatever.
Okay, maybe a little awkward.
The Doctor kept her so busy on the TARDIS it was days, maybe even a few weeks, before she realized that they never left the TARDIS. It wasn't obvious at first. Oh, sure, the Doctor would land them somewhere here and there for take-away (he had a truly astonishing number of pizza delivery numbers programmed into the TARDIS's phone circuits.) But they never stayed long enough to explore, to see the local sights, meet the local people, certainly not long enough to get into any adventures. Clara couldn't remember the last time she saw sunshine.
After three hours of teaching Solitaire to Eggs, Clara was ready to scream.
"Let's go somewhere."
"Hmmm..?" The Doctor looked up from his book. For some reason he was wearing those round-rimmed glasses today. He didn't really need them to see and they'd slipped down on his nose without him noticing. She bit back a laugh.
"Somewhere. All of time and space you promised me. This is boring." She swept her hands indicating the ship around her.
"Clara!" the Doctor sounded scandalized. "She'll hear you!" He actually looked a bit hurt that she'd insulted his TARDIS.
"Okay. Sorry. You are boring." She grabbed his hand trying to pull him from his chair.
"But...but.."
"Doctor, come on! You're growing moss in here!" He still wasn't budging.
"Don't you like it here?" He sounded a bit plaintive, and Clara realized he'd been trying hard to keep her entertained. It really wasn't like the Doctor to hide out in the TARDIS for weeks at a time, only when something was very, very wrong. She thought she could probably spend the rest of her life wandering the TARDIS with him without ever tiring of him, but was quite the sacrifice for him to be...babysitting her. Clara flushed guiltily.
"I'm not made of glass, Doctor," she said softly.
"I know you're not," he muttered, not looking at her.
"Really? Then why are we playing house in the TARDIS when we could be doing something?"
"You're forgetting that someone is stalking you. Someone who can write Gallifreyan."
Clara stilled for a moment, remembering the Doctor's blind terror when he'd seen the note her mysterious "admirer" had left. Then she shrugged, deliberately.
"So you'll be with me, and Eggs, and you can pick somewhere really random, even if this person has their own TARDIS surely..."
The Doctor sighed. "And you're still having flashbacks," he reminded her reluctantly. Clara winced, but it was true. Random memories still trapped her, even when she was awake, probably more than he realized. She was able to fight mos tof them off, but yesterday she'd had a vision of herself performing a wire act in a circus, desperate to keep attention on her and not the man playing with spoons. She'd snapped out of it when she had fallen, an had a bruise on her hip she didn't think the Doctor knew about.
"Yeah." Clara admitted defeat. Turning away, she went to gather up her cards. "Eggs, have you ever played fifty-two pickup?"
"Clara."
"It's a really fun game, Eggs, and only takes a second to learn-"
"Clara." He turned her around to face him. "You're not a prisoner, here, Clara."
"I know, it's just..."
"I know."
Sometimes a hug really did make everything better.
"I suppose..." the Doctor's voice sounded funny with his chin resting on her head. "I suppose we could go visit Vastra for a bit. She's been trying to reach me for some reason anyway..."
A/N Thanks again to Kosovaheartland for correcting my Americanisms. As always, reviews help me write better! (and faster!)